


it is so quite a new thing

by zjofierose



Series: YoI rarepair week [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Chris knows what's up, Communication, Competition, Feelings, Light Angst, M/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-19 14:09:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22178770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/pseuds/zjofierose
Summary: competing against, and inevitably for some, losing against, people you love is difficult.
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov/Yuri Plisetsky
Series: YoI rarepair week [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594894
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46
Collections: YOI Rare Pair Week 2020





	it is so quite a new thing

**Author's Note:**

> For the Day 4 prompt "competition" of the YOI Rarepair week 2020. Part of the Star, Star poly verse.

“I feel like I don’t know who I should be cheering for,” Yuuri says carefully, eyes on his hands as he laces up his skates. It’s five minutes until the warm-up will be called for the second group, and Viktor is busy tying his own laces, running through his program in his mind, trying to tune out all of the noise around him and focus. “Like I don’t know who I want to win.”

“That’s not true, darling,” Viktor tells him, and Yuuri hangs his head. 

“No,” he agrees, “you’re right. I know that I want to win. But I feel like I should want you all to win more than I actually do.”

Viktor represses the urge to sigh, and scoots over close. He gets a finger under Yuuri’s chin and lifts it, meeting his eyes. “Yuuri, my love. On the ice, we _always_ put ourselves first. Nothing else matters.” He smiles. “Besides, it’ll feel that much better when you beat us fair and square because we’re all doing our best.” He lets go of Yuuri’s chin and taps his nose with a finger. “But that means _you_ have to do your best, too.”

Yuuri bites his lip, eyes fond. It’s still a challenge for him to intentionally find that place inside himself that is the ultimate competitor, to admit that not only is he _good_ enough to win, he desperately _wants_ to do it, again and again and again. But he’s getting there, Viktor thinks, one competition after another, fighting harder and winning more, and with hardly any of the anxious inconsistency of the year they met.

“You think Yurio is going to hold back just because he loves us?” Viktor asks, and Yuuri snorts.

“I should fucking _hope_ not,” Yuri growls from behind them, “I’m gonna beat you all, and look better than you doing it, Katsudon.” He leans in against Viktor’s shoulder, and Viktor wraps an arm around his waist. “Now get your fat ass out there, piggy, it’s warm-up time.”

Viktor rolls his eyes at Otabek, who’s leaning against a locker nearby, but the words have the needed effect. Yuuri stands, spine straight, and there’s that competitive flash in his brown eyes as he turns to the rink doors. Viktor can see Yuri barely suppress a grin as he stomps after him. 

\--

The aura in the room is distinctly down when Viktor opens the door, and he resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all, staying together after their first time competing against each other as boyfriends. Maybe they should have split up, gotten individual rooms, or each roomed with their coaches, or…

“Why the long faces, _mes chers_?” Chris asks, stepping in after him, and Viktor doesn’t bother to repress the sigh this time. “Didn’t two of you medal today? Where is the champagne, hmm?”

Otabek nods in greeting at Chris from where he sits in the room’s loveseat with a sulking Yuri. “Congratulations on your silver, Chris. Your performance was inspiring.”

“Why, thank you, _cheri_ ,” Chris smiles and pours a glass of champagne from the bottle that Viktor pops and puts in his hand. “Otabek?”

Otabek shakes his head, so Chris hands Viktor the glass instead, pouring another for himself and one for Yuuri, who’s curled up on the bed and absorbed in his phone. “Yuuri, your performance was the best I’ve seen from you yet. You deserved today’s gold,” he lifts his glass in salute, and Yuuri’s cheeks go pink, “but I’m coming for you at Worlds, _cheri_. You better work that cute little butt off if you want to stay on top.” He winks, and Yuuri goes from pink to red.

Viktor chuckles into his champagne at the amount of innuendo Chris can insert into anything, and Chris beams and kisses his cheek. “Viktor, my old friend, your little paramour may have beat me, but now that I have finally stood above you, I can safely say… yes, your hair _is_ getting that thin on top.” 

Viktor gives a mock growl and swats at Chris with his free hand as Chris dances out of reach and laughs like a loon, flinging himself with a bounce onto the bed with Yuuri. 

“How the fuck do you _do_ that,” Yuri bites out from the couch, and Chris gives a long-suffering sigh. 

“Do what, _cher_? Lose gracefully?” He lifts his champagne flute in Viktor’s direction with a wry smile. “Years of practice, I’m afraid. You can thank him for that.”

“I’m sorry,” Viktor says softly, and means it. It’s always been a little unfair to Chris that he came up so close behind Viktor; he’s unlikely to outlast Viktor by more than a season or two, if that, and now he’s got Yurio and Yuri to contend with, not to mention Otabek. Chris is deeply talented in his own right, and yet he’s gotten the short end of the stick year after year.

“Don’t be,” Chris says, his voice as serious as it ever gets, and Viktor smiles at him. “I would never have wanted to beat you at anything less than your best. And besides,” he shrugs, smile going a little sharp, “I beat you today, didn’t I, even if I didn’t take gold.”

It’s Viktor’s turn to raise his glass, because it’s true; the bronze medal in his pocket is not a first in his collection, but it’s certainly uncommon. Chris and Yuuri had both beat him fairly, and he won’t say it doesn’t sting, but he can’t find it within himself to feel too badly about it in the end.

“Aren’t you _angry_ ?” Yurio asks, his voice equal parts strained and curious. “You’ve spent all these years trying to beat Viktor, and when you finally do, you _still_ can’t get gold. Doesn’t that make you _furious_?”

“No,” Chris answers easily, “not really. Am I disappointed? Of course. We all want to be on top of the podium every time, that’s why we do this. There’s no sense in lying about it.” He reaches out to rub a hand across Yuuri’s hair, and Viktor’s grateful for it. Yuuri is clearly feeling awkward about his win, unable to reconcile his joy at his victory with his fear of upsetting the people he cares about. “And I’d be more disappointed if I’d missed out on gold because I’d fucked something up. But I didn’t- I gave my best performance of the season, and so did Yuuri, and his was just better.”

“Thanks, Chris,” Yuuri says, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. 

“ _Seriously_ ,” Chris says, looking around the room in dawning horror, “have none of you congratulated him?”

“Of course we did,” Otabek says, “we’re not assholes.”

“Did he _believe_ you, though,” Chris presses, and the room goes silent.

“Yuuri,” Otabek says, getting up and going to sit next to him on the bed. “Your performance was amazing. I’m glad you won.” His voice is absolutely sincere, and somehow Viktor finds himself unsurprised that Otabek is the one of them best able to navigate this uncharted territory. He’s rarely known anyone with quite so much self-possession and self-knowledge at such a young age. Much like Chris, he thinks suddenly, and smiles at the trio on the bed.

“Thank you, Otabek,” Yuuri says softly, “I thought you did really well, too.”

“Listen,” Chris says, lifting his glass, “Vitka, top me off.” He waits until his glass is full again, then swaps it for Yuuri’s, holding the new glass out to be filled. “You all are going to have to get better at this. You’ve all been together, what, several months now? You _knew_ this was coming.”

“We did,” Viktor agrees, and lifts his glass to Chris. “Reality is a little different than theory, I’m afraid.”

“Nonsense,” Chris wraps his arm firmly around Yuuri and waves his other at Viktor. “Vitka, come here. You are all standing around like you’re still adversaries. Come sit together like boyfriends.” He scowls over at Yuri on the loveseat, and scoots back on the bed, gesturing. “You too, Ice Tiger. Get over here.”

Yuri skulks over, squeezing in at the bottom of the bed to drape himself across Viktor’s legs and lay his head in Otabek’s lap. He’s still sulking, but there’s no doubt that he wants to be here, with them, and Viktor brings a hand down to rub at his calves, digging his thumb deep into the muscle and make Yuri hiss with relief. 

“Listen to _ton oncle_ Chris, _cheris_ ,” Chris says, smiling around at all of them, “you are all the best of the best, and you live to compete. It’s a blessing, honestly, that it’s all of you and not just some of you, because you all understand what it’s like for each other.” Viktor bumps his shoulder into Chris’ in a gesture of solidarity. He knows Chris has had his share of failed relationships over an inability to understand the life of a professional athlete. “But if you want to do this thing you’re doing, you’re going to have to learn to separate who you are to each other _on_ the ice from who you are to each other _off_ it.”

“How?” Otabek asks, and Chris shrugs. 

“Partially, practice. Viktor and I weren’t always this close; I had to learn to put aside how much he frustrates me as a competitor so that I can appreciate what a delight he is as a friend.”

“What about for you?” Otabek turns to him, and Viktor blinks, not expecting the question.

“Um, well, it was a little different. I’m older, I was already an established skater when Kitka here started coming up.” He casts his mind back, considering. “But I did have to relax enough not to view him as a threat when we _weren’t_ competing so that there was space for us to become friends.”

“Vitka, you see me as a threat? I’m touched!” Chris presses a hand to his chest and beams, making Yuuri giggle. 

“Always, darling,” Viktor says easily, still rubbing at Yuri’s leg. He likes this, how everyone is relaxing around Chris’ easy presence. It’s helping, he thinks. 

“Vitya,” Yuuri asks softly, not looking at him, and Viktor sits up, lifting his head from Chris’ shoulder. “How do you not feel bad when you beat him?”

“I do,” Viktor answers honestly. “As his friend, I want him to win. I know how bad he wants it, and I know how good he is, and when he does win over me, like today, I’m genuinely happy for him.” He shrugs. “But, like he said, figure skating, or any sport at this level, is deeply selfish. We build our whole lives around that tiny chance at winning any time we step onto the ice. Just because he’s my friend doesn’t mean that I stop wanting to beat him, or that I would expect him to stop wanting to beat me.”

“It will get easier,” Chris says, rubbing his fingers into Yuuri’s hair fondly. “This is just the first time. You’ve all competed against each other before, and you’ll do it many more times to come. You’ll figure it out.”

“It’s _hard_ ,” Yuri grumbles from where he’s sprawled, and Otabek reaches down to settle a hand on his chest in reassurance. 

“Just remember to be sincere in your congratulations, to always still fight your hardest, and to give each other a little space when you need it,” Chris says, and Viktor leans forward to kiss his cheek in gratitude. “You’re all at different points in your careers, and you all have different strengths and abilities. You’ll all get your chance to shine.”

“ _Spacibo_ , Kitka,” Viktor says fondly, and Chris smiles back. 

“Anything for you, mon petit chou,” Chris says, and extricates himself from the pile on the bed expertly. “Now, I’ll leave you all to your kissing and making up!” He waggles his eyebrows and dives for the door, expertly dodging the flurry of pillows that come flying as he exits.


End file.
